


Bound by Honor Bound By Love

by AGL03



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, Far off Places, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine, Getting to know you, betrothal, prince in disguise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:45:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGL03/pseuds/AGL03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My Gift for the Fitzsimmons Network Secret Valentine Exchange!   Princess Jemma is on her way to meet her betrothed Prince Fitz for the very first time.  A marriage that has been arranged since her birth.  But as she approaches her new home and life dark forces conspire to use her destiny for their own gain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound by Honor Bound By Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Agent 85](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Agent+85).



Your Prompt: "We've been engaged since we were young, but wow, your portraits don't do you justice." 

Her Royal Highness Princess Jemma Simmons sat in her carriage, simply staring out the window as the forests of her native England slowly gave way to the lush, green, rolling hills of Scotland. What would be her new home. For a mere weeks after her birth she had been betrothed to Prince Leopold Fitz of Scotland as part of a treaty that had maintained peace, prosperity, and security within the two nations for nearly two decades now. 

She had known since she was old enough to understand she was betrothed, that she would one day be sent to Scotland to marry, and one day rule at Leopold’s side. It was her duty as the Princess and she would uphold it with honor. And though she thought she was thoroughly prepared for the day, it had been quite distressing bidding farewell to her parents and everyone at the castle she had grown up with. They would follow a few weeks later for the wedding itself of course, but Jemma was being sent ahead so she could finalize plans and meet her future groom in person.

Thinking of her soon to be husband Jemma pulled out an ornate box that had been sitting next to her. The rich dark wood was inlayed with intricate golden flowers. A gift from her betrothed for her 16th birthday. Inside was lined with lush emerald green velvet, a sweet saying etched into the plaque within, “You are the only one that has my Heart.” Jemma had blushed when she’d first read it, such a term of endearment from a man she’d never met. The ladies of her court cooing at his sweetness, congratulating her on her husband seeming to be a kind and gentle man at the very least. She pushed aside the glittering tiara, a priceless family heirloom handed down for generations to wear upon her coronation as Princess of all Scotland and its future Queen. Instead she pulled out a small pile of portraits. They had been sent to her over the years, so she might know what her husband would look like. She herself, sitting for a portrait at least once a year for the same purpose. She ran her fingers gently over the image, as always her eyes meeting the startling blue of his own. 

She had found him handsome, while her ladies always called him adorable, or would compare him to the handsome men of the guard and court. 

Setting the portraits down she pulled out another one of his gifts, in fact her favorite, a thick leather bound book that had now been wore due to her hours of perusing it. It had come on her eighteenth birthday along with word that they were ready for her to come for a Spring Wedding. There had been traditional lavish gifts of jewels, fine dresses, and ceremonial attire for her new role. But at the bottom, wrapped in a simple bow had been this book. Jemma had opened it, as she did now, the note still sitting just inside the cover.

My Dearest Jemma,

The time of our marriage is now approaching. I have been told that you have a fondness for the field of biology and offer this gift as a token of my fondness, and so you may prepare yourself for the specimens you will encounter in your new home. 

Until We Meet, 

Leopold 

The pages had taken her breath away, and while everyone else fawned over the jewels and dresses, she’d curled up against the window of her room. Settling into the sunlight and loosing herself in the pages. Each page contained a hand drawn excruciatingly detailed and colored plant, its Latin name, local name, and a list of its uses or properties. 

“Jemma Dear,” her mother called, holding up the pink silk gown she wore now, “There was a note from his mother, the book was apparently quite the labor of love by Leopold, and all work was done by his hand.” Jemma had felt a level of fondness for him in that moment she never had before. Merely offering her mother a smile and returning to the pages. Just as she was now, even though she had them all memorized, she still loved taking in his intricate work. 

Just as she had many times before, she lost herself in the pages, unaware of how much time as passed until the carriage came to an abrupt stop, nearly causing her to tumble to the floor. She righted herself and went to peer out the window. She was about to ask the foots man what was going on when she saw his body drop to the ground next to the carriage, a dagger imbedded deep into his chest. 

Her hands flew to her mouth to muffle her cry of horror, the door wrenching open and a large man with white hair smiled a toothy grin at her. “Your Highness,” he said his voice oily and sent shivers up her spine. 

Jemma pulled back clutching her book to her chest, “If its money you want take what you wish and spare the men.” She said, nodding at the tiara and other jewels clearly in view. She could hear a scuffle outside, the man turning “Bring the driver here, I want him with me as I need him alive, he must deliver the good news to his King once this is all done.” With that he turned his attention back to Jemma as he pulled himself back into the carriage. “Now Princess Jemma, you are more valuable than any treasure in here right now.”

Jemma slunk back again, hearing curses and struggling outside the carriage still. As a Princess and only daughter of the King and Queen of England she knew this was always a danger, the reason why she was never allowed far from the castle. In fact there had been a handful of attempts throughout her life, all foiled by the guards.

“You will receive no ransom for me,” Jemma spat bravely “In fact you will incur the ire of the Calvary herself, and believe me you do not want to do that.”

The man chuckled helping himself to some of the wine that had been left in the carriage for her journey. “Who said I wanted a ransom for you?”

Jemma felt her blood run cold. “Do you know who I am dear girl?” he asked, casting an annoyed glance out the carriage door where she could hear someone fighting against his men. A litany of Scottish curses reaching her ears and even with her limited knowledge of the language they made her ears burn.   
“A Thieving Highwayman,” Jemma said fixing him with a glare.

He merely laughed, “I am King Gideon Malick, of Maveth,” he purred leaning closer, her eyes widening the only indication she knew exactly who he was now. “I had sought your hand for my heir all those years ago but your parents refused. As a result while you have prospered my once great Kingdom is now on the brink of ruin. However, if you were our future Queen, your dear parents would have no choice to support me in my endeavors of conquest, provide economic assistance, and help us take down Scotland once and for all.”

Now Jemma reacted trying to slap him across the face, his large hand closing around her small wrist and squeezing it so hard she couldn’t help but let out a gasp of pain. “I will never help you,” she hissed. Malick merely laughed and threw her back. “You won’t have a choice, once the ceremony is done it is binding, and in Maveth the woman’s consent isn’t required.” It was then an unconscious body was hoisted into the carriage, Jemma recognized him instantly her driver. He still had a mask over his face, it kept the dust and sun out of his eyes he’d explained when she’d inquired about it, and now a series of bloody cuts to his arms and cheek. His light curly hair was matted with dirt an full of debris.

The man bowed apologetically to Malick, “My apologies my Lord, he was small but spirited.”

“See that it doesn’t happen again Mr. Guyiera and get us underway. My heir has waited long enough for this moment.”

The door was closed, Malick taking the ties off of the draperies and binding the drivers wrists and ankles before coming at Jemma with a set. Jemma again yanked her wrists away, “My dear Princess, while I would prefer to use one of Scotland’s own men to deliver the news, if you do not cooperate I will kill him and use one of my own men instead. Do you really want to be responsible for the death of this young man who was just trying to protect you?”

Malick smiled as he finally got tears to shimmer in her eyes. “Will you let me tend his wounds first?” She asked quietly pointing to the blood soaking through his shirt. Malick waved her on, she first carefully placed her book back into the box, and with lack of a bandages she tore the beautiful gown she’d been wearing. The driver moaned a few times in pain as she cleaned and wrapped the wounds best she could but didn’t awaken. Jemma sighed unable to do no more for him, and reluctantly held her wrists out to be bound as well. 

Malick grinned and pulled them a bit tighter than necessary in repayment for her mouth earlier. “My heir, Grant Ward, shall be meeting us shortly. He is a fine specimen of a man, you will be pleased and bear strong sons to carry on our line.” Jemma visibly looked revolted unable to hide the shiver than ran through her body. She would soon learn her place. Once he was done he sat back and poured himself another generous glass of the fine wine, “Cheer up Princess, this is a new beginning, for both of us.”

Jemma kept the nasty comment back to herself, instead fixing her gaze out the window, the carriage turning down at a fork in the road into the dark forest ahead. 

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Hours later Jemma’s wrists ached terribly and the driver had yet to awaken. She had grown hopeful at few times now when he’d stirred and groaned, only to slip back into the depths of unconsciousness once more. The carriage was at a halt, parked in front of a dilapidated pub in the depths of a forest Jemma was so dark and wreaked of evil she thought it could only exist in fairy tales. 

Ward was supposedly in there, Malick had gone inside to meet him as well as get some food. He had been unwilling to take “Such a lovely thing,” into such an establishment and left her in the carriage, a strip of her own dress down forced between her lips to keep her from calling her help. Hands tied above her head to the curtain rode to prevent her from attempting to free herself. 

It didn’t’ stop her from trying as she yanked forcefully on the rod, the fine craftsmanship refusing to give way. She let out an annoyed huff, trying to shake the stray lock of hair that had fallen from her intricate braid from her face. Slumping back she briefly entertained the idea of her Prince, coming to save her, emerging from the darkness that surrounded her like a light knight in the this place of darkness. Dispatching her abductors and want to be suitor, scooping her into his strong arms, those eyes she loved so much gazing upon her adoringly, and carrying her away from this terrible place.   
Thinking of Leo she wondered if he was brave and strong or was he smart and refined? She knew she was set for an arranged marriage her entire life and had given much thought to what her husband would be like. If his gifts were any indication he was indeed smart and thoughtful. Her parents had never gone nearly as far to encourage her love of science. 

A groan next to her broke her from her thoughts, the driver’s head rolling from side to side, eyes still closed in pain. Jemma tried to call out, tried to reach for him, but was impeded by her bindings once more. She settled for nudging her knees against his.

He moaned again, eyes finally cracking open. Jemma couldn’t get a good look at them due to the angle, trying to call to him around her gag. Maybe they could get free before Malick returned with Ward. 

“Bloody Hell, Hunter is going to kill me.” He groaned, this Scottish brogue thick in his haziness. Slowly his head came up and he looked around the carriage, his hands, like her now bound above his head and feet. One of the curses she’d heard uttered earlier passed his lips as he finally seemed to notice her and predicament.

“Princess?” he questioned, his voice now clear the last of the cobwebs were swept away. She nodded, for the first time she caught a good look at his eyes. And she gasped around her gag, it couldn’t be. “Have those scoundrels hurt you?” he asked clearly concerned. 

She could only shake her head before jerking towards the pub through the window, hoping he would understand. He seemed too, pulling at his bindings to get a better look. He briefly considered yelling for help but knew that no one in that place would help him or Jemma in this situation, and could possibly be worse than whoever had them. And the second his current captor took off his mask he was sure the situation would only go from bad to worse. 

He glanced helplessly at the Princess, allowing himself a moment to be captivated by her beauty, before yanking at his bonds with as much success as she had had. “It’s okay Princess, we’re going to get out of this, together, you have my word.” He couldn’t tell but she seemed to have offered a small smile around her gag. 

The door to the carriage was flung open and the stench of cheap alcohol and sweat hit them both before Malick pulled himself back in, a large muscular figure with dark hair and eyes right behind him. The pair had barely sat down before the carriage was in motion again, the new comer looking Jemma over as if she was a piece of meat.

“Grant, may I introduce you to Princess Jemma Simmons, your Highness your future Lord and Master Grant Ward,” Malick said finally pulling the gag away. Jemma settled for the glare, the driver attempting to shift over and block her from view. Ward’s dark eyes slowly roamed over her body, and Jemma could hear her unwitting companion hiss in anger.

“She’ll do rather nicely,” Ward purred reaching out to caress her leg. His fingers didn’t make contact the driver managing to get his bound feet up in a kick, connecting with the hand. Ward flared launching himself across the carriage, one hand wrapping around the bound man’s throat the other his hair wrenching his head back. “She is mine, and I will do as I please with her,” Ward growled.  
The man gasped for breath but didn’t back down, “She is her own woman and belongs to no one.”

Ward squeezed tighter, “Bold words little man, just who do you think you are?” 

At that the driver chuckled, Jemma awestruck by his bravery and fortitude in the moment, though also terrified it would get him killed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he responded. Ward cocked his head in confusion and even Malick sat forward with a renewed interest.

Ward kept a tight hold of his neck while the other let go of his hair and pulled the mask away. Jemma knew the face in an instant, her own shock betraying them both as a name passed her lips “Leo,” she breathed. She had seen his portrait so many times through the years, but now despite the blood and the circumstances, the painters had not done him justice. 

Leo only had eyes for her, paying no heed to the evil King and his heir grasping his neck, “I actually prefer Fitz,” He said with a small smile. 

Malick came back to himself first “I’ll be damned,” He muttered, as he absently reached out and pulled Ward back by his jacket. “We got them both. Well this is certainly a wonderful turn of events.”  
Fitz rose up while mustering as much royal authority one could while one’s hands were bound above them. “You will get out of this carriage and release us both at once.” He commanded. Jemma unbelievably proud of him.

Both Malick and Ward laughed. “Oh no my dear boy, there is no way we could ever pass upon this bounty we have been gifted with today. A Queen for our Kingdom to solidify our alliances with England…and you, well I can just imagine how much your own Kingdom will pay to get you back safe and relatively unharmed. Even better you can witness and deliver the news of the Princess’s change in grooms.”

“Never,” They hissed in unison, glancing at the other surprised. Malick rummaging into his travel bag and pulling a bottle with an ominous clear liquid in it. As soon as the cap was removed Jemma recognized the sickly sweet smell, chloroform. Fitz must have known what it was to as he was once again trying to position himself in front of her in the confined space. Malick soaking a rag and handing it to a smiling Ward.

Fitz pulled harshly at his bonds, “Don’t touch her,” he hissed even as the cloth was forced over his nose and mouth.

“No! Leave him alone!” Jemma cried, her pleas falling on deaf ears. Fitz succumbed quickly slumping once again in his bonds, Ward turning to her and repeating his actions. Jemma was proud she landed a solid kick between his legs, just as May had taught her to do, causing Ward to let out a paid grunt but not enough to stop him from pressing the cloth to her face.   
Jemma stubbornly held her breath, Ward looking over her “Sleep now my Princess, when you awake we will be home.”

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A pounding headache was the first thing Jemma became aware of slowly cracking her eyes open expecting to find herself still in the carriage. She sat up in a panic finding she was no longer in the carriage, Fitz no longer at her side, and thankfully Malick and Ward no longer looking her over. She was in a circular room, laying upon a large bed with silk sheets. The entire room was in hughes of blue and the gray dreary sky outside only made the room feel more oppressive. 

In the corner she noticed a mannequin with a dress upon it, her wedding dress in fact taken from her trunk which lay open in the corner, her other clothes carelessly thrown back in. On the table saw a tray with bread, cheese, fruit, and wine yet despite her gnawing hunger she had no intention of touching any of it. A note lay next to the food, “Be dressed and ready by dawn,” and she promptly threw it into the fireplace. 

The final item in the room was a vanity, it was littered with many bottles of fragrances and to her relief her box. She rushed over to it, opening it finding her tiara and cherished book still there as well as the jewels. Sadly the portraits of Fitz seemed to be the only things taken. Fitz!

Jemma couldn’t believe that her betrothed had been with her all along and she regretted she hadn’t used the time before Malick’s arrival to speak more with him. He was no doubt whisked away back to another part of the castle as the ransom demand was prepared. 

Unsure what to do next Jemma checked to door, no surprised to find it locked. Peering out the bars of the windows finding she was being kept high up in one of the castle’s turrets. Jemma groaned at the audacity of being Princess locked away in a tower. 

It was then she caught sight of herself in the mirror, her dress in tatters, hair falling from the beautiful braid it had been in this morning. She had wanted the first time her betrothed laid eyes on her to be memorable. But not in this way. 

Digging through her trunk she selected a more practical dress, one she would wear back home around the castle or when out collecting samples. Again, having no intention of obeying and putting on her wedding gown. She already felt much better having the familiar garment on. Moving onto her hair, quickly putting it into a simple braid.

Before she could decide what to do next, she heard scratching at her door, and the tumblers of the locks being worked. Jemma looked around eyes landing on a horrid blue vase that held wilting flowers. She grabbed it pressing herself to the wall next to the door waiting, surprised that whoever was trying to get in didn’t seem to understand how to use a lock and key properly. 

With a click if finally gave way, the door opening slowly and a figure slipping in. Jemma prepared to smash the ceramics into their head and make a run for it when a soft voice stopped her inches from his head. “Jemma?” he questioned.

She froze, nearly dropping the vase on the floor in shock “Fitz?” she said in shock. He turned into the light softly closing the door behind him. She threw herself into his arms for the first time, his reciprocating the action just as tenderly. Making her feel safe and warm. 

He pulled away looking her over, “They didn’t harm you did they?” he asked not seeing any injuries. 

She shook her head “How are you here?” she asked.

He smiled pulling out a small leather case from inside his pocket, “As a lad I liked to take things apart,” he said “Well the staff got tired of it and one of them gave me a set of lock picks. Kept my hands busy and I got rather good at it over the years. Bloody idiots didn’t even bother to search me when they dropped me down in that dungeon of theirs.” 

“You’ll have to teach me,” she said running back to her trunk and pulling one of her gowns out, tearing a few key seams before tying the arms onto the shreds fashioning a bag of sorts. “And you seem to know of multiple uses for a dress,” he said a hint of mischief in her eyes. “I excel at preparation,” she said as she threw the food left on the table into it as well as grabbing her box from the vanity.   
Fitz stopped her before she could put it in, a pleased yet surprised look on his face, running his hands over the wood reverently “You kept it,” He said softly. 

Jemma smiled back “Of course I did,” she replied “and I fully expect you to introduce me to the craftsman after our marriage. If possible I would like him to design some larger furniture pieces for our apartments.” She looked up to see Fitz’s face had turned a bright red, his hand running on the back of his neck. 

“I actually, made it myself,” he said holding up his hands “Another way to keep my hands busy.”

Jemma took a moment to embrace him again “Then you should know that I have cherished it since they day it arrived, now even more so.” She whispered. Fitz gazed upon her, her stomach filling with flutters, as he leaned in just a few inches closer to her. She was about to close to distance, test what the rest of her life might be like, if their marriage would be one of convenience and mutual respect or was she one of the lucky ones and they would have a spark that could possibly turn into love. He suddenly pulled away, his hand slipping down to take hers, “Come, we must go before they notice I am gone. I released all the other prisoners but that distraction will only last for so long.”

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As disappointed as Jemma had been at the loss of the moment back in her room, Fitz had indeed been right. They had made their way through the dank and dreary halls unimpeded, Fitz’s distraction working marvelously until the alarm bells sounded as they reached the gatehouse and stables. 

Fitz let out a curse and pulled her into a run, “I’d intended on hooking the carriage back up but now there is no time.” He said running to the stalls and saddling the first horse he came too. Jemma helped getting the bridal on, Fitz tightening the last of the belts before the booted footsteps of the guards could be heard clamoring their way. 

Fitz pulled himself up onto the horse and without waiting for consent reached down and pulled Jemma up in front of him, arms wrapped around her securely as he took the reins and spurred the horse on. Jemma didn’t protest, once again enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around her. The guards had just opened the doors of the stables, Grant Ward at the lead, with swords drawn.

“Halt!” Ward ordered. 

“Not a chance,” Fitz muttered, his mouth now right next to her ear “Hold tight.” Jemma did as he instructed, seeming to know exactly what he had in mind. Fitz drove the horse into a gallop, charging headlong into the guards blocking the door. 

Jemma took a small sense of satisfaction at the sense of panic that crossed their features before they were forced to dive out of the way into the muck of the stables. “Get the horses! Don’t let them get away!” Ward raged, his voice fading in the distance as the pair cleared the courtyard and the drawbridge before they could close it. 

Fitz drove them onward, deep into the dark foreboding forest once more, suddenly veering off the muddy trail and leading them into the trees and brush. “What are you doing?” Jemma demanded as he led them behind a thicket of trees and brush, out of sight but he could still see the road.

“I don’t know the area,” he admitted “I’m letting them lead the way out, they will assume that we are heading to my castle and take the correct paths. That way we also don’t need to worry about them sneaking up behind us either.”

Jemma turned to him, it was utterly brilliant. She was about to vocalize that very thought when at least twelves galloping horses and their riders came speeding down the trail. Fitz wrapped his thick black cloak around them hunching down on the horse, allow just enough room for them to both peer at the riders as they raced by. Ward was still in the lead on a mighty black horse and even at the speed he traveled, Jemma could see the fire in his eyes. “He will never lay a hand on you, I promise.” Fitz said his arms tightening around her. She could only nod, not daring to speak, instead leaning back into his chest and resting her head in the crook of his neck.

Fitz waited a few minutes giving Ward and his men a wide berth while ensuring no stragglers were following from the castle. Satisfied it was safe to follow he lead the horse back onto the trail, a real smile breaking out on Jemma’s face at the sight. That many horses and men had left quite the trail of breadcrumbs for them to follow in the mud. 

“That, my future husband, was brilliant!” Jemma said still not having moved from her position snuggled into his chest. She could feel the chuckled in his throat and was delighted to feel a light kiss on the top of her head. “I have them now and again,” he said and though she couldn’t see them knew his eyes were sparkling. 

“I’m afraid this isn’t how I imagined our first meeting going, there’s a lot more blood and I never considered…well this” he said quietly.

“What? Getting kidnapped by our bitter enemy to be married and ransomed off. Though I will say I had the raw end of that one.” Jemma said at least making light if the situation. “Why is it you were disguised as my driver? Why not just meet me straight away in the carriage?”

Fitz was quiet for a few moments, “I was afraid,” he finally said. “Afraid to meet you, what you would be like, that I’d have nothing clever to say to you. I’ve known that you would be my wife as long as I can remember and only had the portraits and a few bits of information from my Mum. And you are so beautiful, well beyond anything those painters could convey with a canvas and brush. So I thought I’d disguise myself as the driver. I had it all worked out, we’d stop for lunch at this beautiful meadow not far from the castle. The very meadow many of the plants in your book are from. I’d be able to talk with you a bit that way I wouldn’t make an utter fool of myself when I meant you in person.” 

Jemma felt her heart swell, “Oh, Fitz” she said. “Would you believe I was just as nervous to meet you? You looked so handsome in those portraits and, well, many don’t approve of my scientific curiosity.” 

Fitz was quick to reply “Never change that, you have no idea how thrilled I was to hear you had it. Our long neglected library will be getting the proper attention it deserves from someone other than me. I even had the staff start pulling texts for you into a special section, had the ladies do up a special reading and work area just for us.”

“Sounds lovely,” Jemma said, an image of them curled up into a large window seat full of pillows, the afternoon sunlight streaming through a large window. She was settled in his arms much as she was now his chin resting atop her head, one hand rubbing her arms while the other held a book. Jemma shivered at the thought. Fitz mistaking that she was cold pulled the cloak tighter around her. 

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They rode for hours before pulling off the trail for the night as the light began to fade. The Sun still hidden behind the murkiness that seemed to penetrate every inch of this accursed land. Fitz led the weary horse well off the trail, carefully marking trees as they went to ensure they could find their way back in the morning. They were lucky and found a stream where the horse drank greedily as they eased themselves off. A small outcropping of rocks from a small hill would provide at least some shelter.

Jemma groaned as her stiff muscles protested. She hadn’t ridden that long in ages, being a Princess she was usually in the carriage unless out for a leisure ride. Fitz did too wincing at his wounds as he stretched as well. Jemma had nearly forgotten about the slashes he’d received trying to protect her the first time. Rushing forward she yanked up his shirt to get a better look, her betrothed letting out a yelp of surprise. “Oh hush, we’ll be married soon anyway,” Jemma scolded seeing the tatters of her initial bandaging still there. “We need to get those cleaned up again so they don’t get infected.”

“Let’s get settled first,” Fitz said easing her hands away. “I don’t dare build a fire, they could see it especially once it gets dark”. Jemma didn’t disagree but wasn’t keen on the prospect of facing the night here without the comforting flames to keep the darkness at bay. She nodded, watching as he began to gather brush and branches, arranging them around the alcove to make a shelter.   
Jemma busied herself with making sure the horse was secure and had access to both food and water before turning her attention to the food she’d thrown in her bag. They would have to ration it until they found another source, Jemma hesitant to trust anything that grew in the forest. “How long do you think it will take us to get out of here?” she asked pulling out the bread and fruit as they would go bad first.

Fitz peered out from the pile of branches, “At least 2 days maybe 3 since we will need to keep a good distance. Once we are out of Maveth’s borders I will be able to take some old hunting trails back to the castle.” He said disappearing back into the shelter. 

Jemma tore one of the inner layers of her ‘bag’ and used it as a tablecloth setting the food out on it. “If we’re careful the food can make it until them.” She waited until Fitz finished the shelter before eating, not wanting to start without him or get in his way. 

He rinsed his hands off in the stream before approaching her. He smiled and offered a grand bow, “My Princess if I may escort you to your chamber for the evening.” Jemma let out a laugh that made Fitz’s heart soar, it was the first time he’d heard her laugh. 

“My Prince is far too generous, spoiling me with such lavish accommodations” She said as they settled in on the soft pile of leaves he’d used as bedding. He leaned back against the rock, Jemma right next to him, barely a few inches between them. “And such a spread,” he added, with a bright smile, “My Princess is quote the hostess.”

They touched their pieces of bread together as if they were goblets. “Our first meal together,” Jemma said.

“The first of many,” Fitz added.

She smiled again, leaning into him gratefully, “First of many” she agreed. They ate in a comfortable silence, before brushing away the last of the crumbs. Fitz opened his arms to her “I don’t want to be presumptuous but without a fire it’s going to get-“He was so sweet and Jemma didn’t hesitate to settle back into his arms, snuggling into his chest. Pulling the cloak over the pair of them.  
Jemma peered into the darkness that was looking outside, their eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. She looked to the sky and let out a small sigh, “I wish we could see the stars,” She said.   
“Yeah, a bit of light would be nice” Fitz said. 

“Yes,” Jemma agreed “Some light would be nice. But I love looking at the stars, even as a little girl my father used to take me up to the tower of our castle. He’d tell me all about the constellations and the stories behind them. He told me that no matter where I was, no matter how far from home, I could look at the very same stars he was.” 

For the first time tears began to well in her eyes as the events of the day began to catch up to her, “I can’t see the stars Fitz and I’m so far from home.”

Fitz’s arms closed around her and pulled her close to his chest. “Just because you can’t see the stars doesn’t mean they aren’t there,” He said soothingly. “They are still up there shining down on you, you might not be able to see them right now, but I assure you they are there. Because no matter how deep the darkness gets it can never ever extinguish the light.”

Jemma pressed tighter to him allowing everything she’d been holding in since that morning come rushing out. Homesickness, fear, pain, and grief all at once. Fitz just held her, whispering that everything was going to be all right, a few tears of his own even dropping onto her cheeks. Eventually the emotions and exhaustion caught up with both of them and they slipped into slumber, secure in each other’s arms. 

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Jemma had always been a morning person, rising with the sun, even now with the exhaustion that lingered from the day before. She glanced to the sky hoping for a hint of the sun only to be met with the oppressive gray from the day before. Despite the morning chill she found herself feeling safe and warm, the cloak and Fitz’s arms still wrapped securely around her.   
She had to take a moment and blush, if word ever got out she and her betrothed had spent the night, alone, wrapped in each other’s arms before the wedding would be the source of gossip for months. Though it was extenuating circumstances to say the least. 

Jemma sighed and pulled away just enough to study his sleeping face. His head was tilted back resting against the rock, mouth slightly option, gentle snores passing his lips. Not enough to be loud, in fact Jemma found it rather adorable. She studied his features carefully for the first time, her fingers coming up on their own accord to rub along his cheek. The stubble tickled her fingers and his lips drew into a slight smile. “They didn’t tell me you were a morning person,” he grumbled “I not sure how I feel about this arrangement now.” 

His eyes finally cracked open as he looked down at her, hands coming up to her own face, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin she found she loved. “How are you feeling this morning, better?”  
Jemma flushed at her behavior the night before, “I’m sorry crying all over-“

Fitz shushed her gently. “Jemma through your entire ordeal in the hands of those brutes yesterday you never wavered, a lesser woman would have crumbled. I am honored to have a strong, confident, and capable woman such as you to be my wife.” 

Jemma refused to cry again instead settling for snuggling into the crook of his neck for a few moments. She pulled away placing a soft kiss to his cheek, loving that his face immediately turned pink. “Let’s have some breakfast and get on our way. I’m assuming Ward and his men will get an early start.”

“We’ll need to be more careful, they may start to suspect we gave them the slip, split up or double back.” Fitz said reluctantly letting her go.

Within the hour they were on the muddy trail again, back on the trail moving at a cautious pace, ready to pull off at a moment’s notice. They used the hours to talk and get to know each other. Favorite foods, books, stories from growing up, even touching on what their future together would look like. 

To their surprise there was no sign of Ward or his men for the two days it took them to get out of the forest, the footprints on the trail still showing that he was on the move. And though it was a good thing Fitz couldn’t help but feel uneasy. 

It was nearly sunset on the second day when the dead and decaying trees of Maveth began to give way to the lush green of Scotland. Fitz guided the horse off of the trail into the trees now knowing where they were and that a few miles from the main road was a small meadow with a stream running through it.

“There is a meadow not far from here, we will stop there for the night. There’s fish in the stream, berries and fresh water.” Fitz said. Jemma leaned against him more and hummed approvingly. Every single one of those things sounding almost as heavenly as a hot bath would be. Fitz continued, “In the morning we can start searching for help, I’m sure that our fathers have realized by now something is wrong when we didn’t arrive. Or Malick’s messenger delivered the ransom demand, my ring was missing when I woke up so I’m assuming they took it for proof they had me. The guard will be out scouring the countryside either way.”

When they arrived at the meadow Fitz hopped off the horse and helped her down, “Why don’t we walk for a bit, I don’t know about you but I’ve had my fill of horseback riding to last me for a while.” Jemma stretched, adjusting the bag around her, she couldn’t agree more. Fitz smiled and leaned over picking a simple white flower from the grass and tucking it behind her ear. “The earliest flowers of spring, to thee, beloved, I bring*” he whispered taking her hand in his and giving it a soft kiss.

She shivered at the soft touch of his lips “It’s the Arctic Starflower so now you can have a star of your very own to watch over you until we are safe.” 

“Oh Fitz,” she whispered her eyes locked on him unwilling for this moment to ever end. Unable to believe that this man was to be hers. She had hoped that her arranged marriage would be one of tolerance and respect yet now it seemed possible, it just might be one of the rare ones that were of love as well. Her free hand traveled up his arm before going to the back of his neck. With the gentlest of tugs she pulled him down to her, her breath hitched in her chest.

She felt Fitz’s free arm warp around her waist, pulling her to him, and closing the last of the distance between them. Like the kiss to her hand it was initially tentative and gentle. Though the spark Jemma felt made her heart soar. Following the spark she pulled him closer, deepening the embrace. Her fingers toying with the curls in his hair while his hand slipped to her back.   
Jemma lost track of how long they stayed like this, lost in each other. It was Fitz who finally pull away resting his forehead against hers “How did I get so lucky,” he whispered.   
“The cosmos were looking out for us,” Jemma whispered back. Fitz kissing her forehead, keeping her hand in his as he took hold of the horses reins to lead the way.

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They made camp by the stream, for the first time Fitz feeling it safe enough to start a small fire. The meadow was popular with sheep herders and there would be a number of other fires in the area by night fall. While he fished Jemma busied herself with gathering firewood and fresh berries for their meal. Grateful for something other than stale bread and dry cheese. She also delighted that she could identify so many of the plant specimens thanks to her cherished book, even picking a few of the buds and leaves to press. Though the Starflower Fitz had so delicately placed in her hair was still there and she had no intention of removing it until she absolutely had too. 

She had been waiting for Fitz to return when a plant caught her eye growing against a rotting log. She knew it was rare, prized for its paralytic properties if ingested. Jemma found herself wondering if it could be introduced into the body via another means. Tearing another rag from the inside of her bag she used it to carefully gather the rare plant.

“Be careful with that stuff,” Fitz said approaching seeing what she was doing. “I’ve seen it knock out a horse it’s a-“

“Paralytic, I know.” Jemma said “Has anyone ever used it for battle or medical purposes?” Now rooting around in the dirt to find a suitable set of rocks. One flat and the other round so she could grind the leaves down into a paste. 

Fitz looked up intrigued as he skewered the fish onto a stick Jemma had found, “No, but the applications would be invaluable. I hate the prospect of taking a life. Being able to subdue an enemy without killing them would be much more ideal.”

Jemma smiled “Agreed, however the issue is it needs to be introduced into the body and I doubt your average warrior will not allow you to get close enough to shove it into their mouth.” Fitz started the fire easily, one of the basic survival skills he’d been taught while on hunts as a child, before looking back at her, smiling at how focused on her idea she was.

“Well, perhaps just introducing it into the blood stream would be enough. A blade laced with it. Or more preferable an arrow with a blunter tip, enough to penetrate the skin but not enough to kill who it hits.” She said. Fitz smiled getting the fish cooking before picking up another smaller stick and sketching an arrowhead into the dirt, a groove in the tip so that the toxin could be put in the channel.   
Jemma had finished her paste, and wrapped it back up. “Perhaps we can try to build something when we get settled back home then,” she said settling in next to him and watching him sketch. This clearly wasn’t the first time he’d done such a thing. 

Night had fallen shortly after they finished their meal, Fits spreading his increasingly battered traveling cloak on the ground, his jacket a pillow under his head, and waved for Jemma to come settle against his chest. She didn’t hesitate curling into him as much as she could and he directed her attention to the sky. “There are your stars my love,” he said kissing her atop her head.  
Jemma gazed up with a bright smile, the familiar constellations looking back at her, yet it wasn’t them that gave her the most comfort. It was the strong arm wrapped around her, the heart beating against her ear, his breath tickling the top of her head. With him, she was truly home. 

She pulled herself up on her elbow, gazing down at him, the stars seeming to dance in his eyes as he smiled softly back at her. She gently ran her fingers through his hair before leaning down and capturing his lips in an embrace. There was no hesitation in his response, content to lose himself in her for the night.

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When Jemma awoke the next morning the sun was already well into the sky, the fact she slept so long both making her blush and smile all at the same time. She was on her side now, Fitz’s arm pillowing her head, his chest to her back, his other arm wrapped around her abdomen his hold there gentle yet firm all at the same time, and his head nuzzled in the crook of her neck.  
She would happily stayed there for a few hours more but she could hear voices and hoof beats in the distance. Panic swelled and she shot up, grabbing and snapping the stick Fitz had used to cook the fish the night before, slipping it up the sleeve of her dress should she need a weapon. 

Fitz was up too, pulling her to her feet and behind him in one fluid movement. His eyes scanning around them for the source of the noise. He let out a sign of relief, his grip on her arm relaxing slightly, “its okay,” he said pointing to the forest green flag emblazed with a dark red lion approaching from the distance. “That’s the royal guard, we’re safe, we’re going home,” he said happily.   
Jemma let out a sigh of relief, trying to tamp down on the nagging worry that still ate at her stomach. They quickly gathered up their scattered belongings and mounted the horse. “With any luck its Captain Hunter’s contingent,” Fitz said “he’s a bit unorthodox but I don’t trust anyone more.”

Fitz was forced to spur the horse even faster, as the flag continued moving away from them, into a thicket of trees in the distance. “Should we shout to them?” Jemma asked the feeling something was wrong only getting worse. 

“No, I don’t want to risk Ward and his mean hearing. My men can fight but us being anywhere near a battle makes us nothing but a liability right now.” Fitz said frowning as the flag disappeared into the trees. The men moving awfully fast if they were supposed to be looking for them. 

It took only a few minutes to reach the tree line, Fitz hopping off the horse but motioning for Jemma to stay there. He took the lead, Jemma guiding the horse a few steps behind. They could hear laughing and talking just down the trail. 

Fitz frowned, the voices lacking a very distinct and familiar accent. He placed his foot down and was going to turn, remount the horse, and just gallop for the castle. But a twig snapped under his foot and before he knew it he was being yanked into the air, the heavy rope of a net biting at his skin and hopelessly tangling him in its hold.   
He hadn’t meant to but a startled yelp echoed down the trail and a distant cheer came down the trail. It had been a trap!

“Fitz!” Jemma cried bringing the horse up next to him, her tiny fingers pulling at the ropes and knots trying to get them to give.

Fitz tried to push her away, “No, Jemma go!” he said her hand grabbing onto his.

“No!” She said tears welling as the voices and horses grew closer. Fitz reached his other hand through the ropes taking her face and forcing her to meet his yes. 

“Jemma, please. They won’t hurt me, they need to ransom me back to my father…what they have in store for you is so much worse. Please I couldn’t bear if he got his hands on you again. Go, now find help!” Fitz begged. Jemma shook her head crying, wishing she could kiss him. 

Fitz have her a watery smile of his own, removing his hand from hers, and delivering a solid smack to the horses backside, causing it to break into a sprint with a grunt. Jemma let out an anguished cry as the horse jolted off, force to hold onto the reins to avoid falling off. The horse followed the path without guidance, Jemma looking back as Ward and his men surrounded the helpless Fitz.  
“I’ll come back for you,” She vowed, an idea immediately forming in her brilliant mind.

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Fitz let out a sigh of relief as he watched her disappear around the bend. Allowing him a few moments to compose himself as the men on horseback surrounded him. His stomach turned at the sight as they wore the bloodied uniforms of his royal guard. Suddenly understanding why Ward hadn’t bothered to search the forest for them before, he knew that they would come out and instead set a trap using Fitz’s own men. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here boys?” Ward said suddenly appearing right in front of Fitz with a predatory smile on his face. “The brave little prince still saving his princess,” Ward mocked and snapped his fingers. Four of his men taking off at the sound “She won’t make it far, poor little thing is probably scared out of her mind by now.”  
Fitz had to bit his tongue, Ward had no idea who he was dealing with in the form of his future wife. She was for more a capable woman than he gave her credit for. “Leave her alone,” Fitz said “you have me. Use me for ransom and as leverage to redraw the agreements.”

Ward laughed and drew his sword, slashing the rope that hung from a sturdy branch, sending him crashing to the ground with a grunt of pain. Fitz struggled out of the of the net, feeling hands close around his arms and yanking him from the ground, and pinning his arms behind his back painfully. 

They forced him forward a few steps so he was standing below Ward. “I am curious what happens when I come striding up to your castle, their beloved Prince at the tip of my sword, just what they will give me to spare your pathetic life. And as for Jemma, I’d much prefer to get her out of the deal as well. Pretty little thing like that, such a spirit, I shall enjoy breaking her.” Fitz could help himself and lunged forward with an angry series of curses he’d never utter in Jemma’s presence. 

He didn’t come close to getting at Ward or even hope to land a blow, but the act of defiance felt good none the less. “Get him on a horse,” Ward ordered “and make sure he is secure, if he so much as gets a finger free I’ll have your hearts in the palm of my hands.”

Fitz again felt himself forced to move, stubbornly digging his heels in and trying to pull himself free of the iron grips. He bought himself a few seconds at most and a solid punch to his stomach that left him breathless. They hoisted him up into the saddle, thick coils of rope being wound around this wrists, pinning them to the grip. His ankles in a similar situation in the stirrups. When they were done Ward guided his horse to his side, looking at him smugly before reaching out and ruffling his hair. “Cheer up, this won’t be for long, and if you’re a good little hostage I’ll even invite you to the wedding.”

“You are going to pay for this Ward,” Fitz shot “And I plan on being a very big part of making it happen. I will take you and the entire Kingdom of Maveth down for this.” Ward rolled his eyes pulling the final touch from his saddle bag. They had taken out one group of the castle guards but the area was crawling with others, all frantically looking for the missing Prince and Princess, Ward couldn’t risk Fitz bringing them upon him. 

Fitz saw the gag dangling from Ward’s fingers and tried to pull away. Another one of Ward’s men arrived on his other side forcing the Princes head forward so Ward could easily force the cloth between his lips effectively silencing him for the journey ahead. Fitz cursed at him angrily, Ward cackling as he took the reins of Fitz’s horse himself, intent on keeping him close.

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Jemma angrily wiped her tears away as she gained control of the frantic horse. Forcing it off the trail she ducked into the trees, much as she and Fitz had done in their initial escape. And as they had a few days before Ward’s men galloped past leaving her hidden in the brush. 

At the moment she wasn’t sure who she was more furious with. Fitz for sending her away or Ward for capturing him. She and Fitz would certainly be having a discussion about sacrificing himself for her sake as soon as he was safe. And she knew it was a discussion he would not enjoy. 

Feeling it was safe she guided the horse back down towards where she’d come from, Ward and his men easy to find. She arrived, keeping a safe distance to not be seen, just as Ward forced a gag onto Fitz, her betrothed shooting Ward with a scathing glare. Seeing how tightly Fitz was bound Jemma decided she was angrier with Ward at the moment and she would make sure there was hell to pay for Fitz’s mistreatment. 

She gave them a few minutes of a head start and though it was slower going, stuck back in the branches considering her options. She could ride blindly around the country side hoping to find some of Fitz’s actual men, but then she would lose sight of them. Not that the men would do any good. Ward had the most ideal hostage he could ask for when holding off a troop of royal guards. 

No, she would have to be sneaky-. A real smile formed on her face. Fitz had said they were still a day’s ride away so Ward and his men would need to stop for the night. Then, with the cover of darkness would she mount her assault. With that she spurred the horse faster, her eyes alert for supplies to pick up along the way. 

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“Ward no! Please you can’t do this!” Fitz screamed at the top of his lungs struggling against the arms that held him once more. 

Before him stood a lone farmer on his knees, Ward’s blade pressed to this throat. Ward had decided to stop for the night, seeing the small farmhouse on the edge of the city as an ideal place. Out of sight, food, stable to hide the horses, and a bed for him to sleep in. Ward had sent one of his men ahead to scout it out and at the time it had been empty, but when they had all arrived, Fitz finally freed of his bonds and gag for a few sips of water, had the farmer returned from working his fields for the day.

The poor, elderly man, had instantly recognized his prince, his eyes were wide in panic seeing the state Fitz was in. Ward had advanced before Fitz could force his parched throat to tell him to run. Leaving Fitz struggling and begging for his subject’s life.

“He means no harm Ward, please!” Fitz begged. “Lock him in the cellar if you must but do not kill him! Please, I am begging you Ward!”

Wards face was cruel and he bore a toothy grin, “This is all your fault Fitz, if you had just stayed in your cell like a good boy back in Maveth this poor man wouldn’t be about to die.”  
“No!” Fitz screamed again pulling even harder at his restraints. “Spare him, I’ll do anything, please-“

The farmer shook his head raising his head high. “No!” he said just as forcefully as Fitz had meeting his Prince right in the eye. “You will do nothing this piece of filth wants, Price Leopold, you will give him nothing in exchange for me. I will gladly lay down my life in service to my crown and country.” 

The farmer then turned and fixed his steely gaze upon Ward, “You may hold the title of a Prince but you will never hope to hold a candle to what ours represents. You are nothing but a coward-“Ward hissed and pressed the blade tighter to his neck, disappointed when not even a flicker of fear pass the man’s eyes. An idea suddenly coming to him, “Lock him in the cellar, I want him to live, because I want him to know what I’m going to do. I want him to see his Prince fall, his body hanging in the courtyard after we get our ransom.”

Ward waved him away “Empty the stores in the cellar, tonight we feast!”

His men cheered and obeyed. Ward going and taking Fitz himself and hauling him into the house. “So your adored by your subjects, this is going to make everything that much more sweet.” 

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If Jemma thought she had been mad before she had been sorely mistaken. The rage coursing through her veins reaching a level she didn’t know existed. Not only had Fitz pled for that man’s life as adamantly as he would have hers but that same man was willing to lay down his life for the Prince he’d never met. Then after all this Ward was going to turn betray them and kill Fitz anyway. She shuttered to think what he was going to do her and her family after their ‘wedding’ Malick had planned.

Jemma ducked back behind the hill and checked the supplies in her bag, making sure everything she had gathered and prepared was ready. She pulled the stick she’d taken from their campsite and modified it, picking up a rock and grinding into the sharpest point she could manage, using yet another strip of her dress to secure it to the stick. Pulling the paste she’d made the day before, making sure the tip was coated in the green substance.

Satisfied he was ready she peered over the top of the hill again to see the last of Ward’s men disappearing into the house and shutting the door. No one was outside standing guard, Jemma reasoning that would garner too much attention from anyone who happened to pass buy and especially any of the guards. 

Her first order of business was to free the dear man who had stood up to the monster, not willing to risk Ward wanting to toy with him more. Getting to the wooden doors she couldn’t believe her luck, the men had used a sword to secure the handles shut. She pulled it free, intending to coat its tip with her creation as well once the farmer was free.   
She slipped down the stairs peering in the darkness, “Sir, are you alright?” She called gently.

He emerged from the shadows looking at her warily. “Dear girl who are you and what are you doing out this time of night all alone! Don’t you know there are ruffians about that a pretty girl like you has no business being around.” 

Jemma helped him up the stairs, “I’m Princess Jemma Simmons, I am-“

“The Prices betrothed!” he finished excitedly before his face fell “Oh your highness, please you must away, those terrible men-“

“Have my future husband and I intend on making them pay very dearly for that,” she finished kindly tugging him over the hill to where their horse waited. “Now I want you to take this horse and go find the guards.” She could see he was about to protest and held up her hand. “I do not know these lands, I don’t know the way to the castle or where the main roads are. You do. I saw you wanted to protect Fitz, so please help now by getting some help.”

He seemed torn but bowed respectfully obeying her as if she was already his Queen, “You stay safe you’re Highness, I will return with the guard as soon as I can.”  
She watched him go, sending a silent prayer he would find someone soon. But in case he didn’t, she wasn’t willing to risk it and was going to take matters into her own hands. First order of business get as many of Ward’s men away as possible. 

Running to the stables she went stall by stall, untying each of the steeds, leading them to the door, before using a riding whip to send them running into the night. Each one a different direction though allowing the last a few feet from the door so even those men would get what had happened. After the last one was freed she made sure that she slammed the stable door as loudly as she could, letting it echo into the night. Dashing back into the shadows of the farmhouse. 

As she thought the door to the house opened, “The horses are all loose!” one shouted.

“Get them back!” Ward ordered, “We don’t have time to proceed on foot!” 

Jemma had to stifle a delighted laugh as the men frantically poured out, one looking into the empty stable in horror. “They are all gone!” And just as they though most of wards men went running into the darkness.

She moved to a window, carefully peering in the corner to get a look inside. Her eyes first sought out Fitz, needing to assure herself that he was okay, and in one piece before she tore him apart for doing this to her. He was bound again, to what seemed to be the only chair in the small one room house, the gag back on. He was awake and looked clearly amused at the antics of Ward’s panicked men.

Ward sat on the bed, Fitz with in his arms reach, and overfilled plate of food before him, the anger clear in his eyes even from here. Finally she counted two remaining guards by the door. So three targets in all, she could handle that. 

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Fitz worked his wrists beneath the ropes until they were raw and still hadn’t managed to get anymore give out of them than when he has started. Hunter and a few of the other guards had tried to show him how to get out of ropes, should something like this ever happen, but Ward had tied the knots a lot tighter than they had.

He sighed around the cloth in his mouth and was thankful at the very least Jemma was safe, hoping she’d found help by now and was on her way to the castle. Fitz was trying not to think about what would happen tomorrow when he was taken to there. 

Fitz also took pleasure in seeing Ward even the slightest bit upset when he learned all the horses had gotten out. It would take significantly longer to reach the gates without them and Fitz planned on being as uncooperative as possible on while walking, even considering forcing them to carry him.

He was broken from his plotting by a frantic knock on the door, the voice that was on the other side causing his heart to plummet and he began fighting against the bonds again.  
“Please! Is anyone there! I need help” the voice cried. It was Jemma, Fitz didn’t doubt it for a moment.

Fitz screamed against the gag, pulling so violently against the bonds the chair gave a little jump from the ground. Ward sat up putting his plate down looking happier than Fitz had ever seen him. “Well would you listen to that boys, sounds like there is a damsel in distress at the door. You should let her in.”

The two men by the door chuckled, and did as he said opening the door to reveal Jemma. Her face was marred with tears, a sword, Fitz taking a moment to try to piece together just where she’d gotten a sword, in her trembling hands. 

Jemma didn’t seem notice the bloody uniform of the guards or hear Fitz’s frantic and muffled screamed for her to run. Instead looking at the men with tear filled eyes. “I’m Princess Jemma Simmons, I was abducted on my way to the castle, I got away but they are after me, I need a place to hide for the night.” She said her voice panicked and pleading, nothing like the Jemma he knew.

And in that moment Fitz was thankful for the gag as a smile spread across his face. He continued his show of fighting as not to alert Ward. One of the men bowed grandly “Of course Princess, we don’t have much but what we do is you-“ He never finished the sentence, Jemma swiping the sword across both of the men’s chests, not deep enough to hurt them badly, but enough to draw blood.   
The screamed in rage moving to draw their own swords, hands before they suddenly collapsed to the ground in a heap. Jemma threw the door open, holding the sword before her, eyes ablaze as she set her sights on Ward. “I believe you have something that belongs to me,” she hissed.

Ward stood dumfounded, unable to figure out how she’d managed to take down two of his men with the mere swipe of her sword. But he didn’t let it last long, he didn’t even to bother drawing his own weapon as he slowly advanced towards her. Like a predator stalking its prey. “I believe you are the one that belongs to me my wayward little bride. You must know this kind of insolence will not be tolerated once we are wed.”

Fitz let out an angered cry and pulled helplessly against the bindings. 

Jemma’s eyes narrowed dangerously but she held her ground. “I belong to no one,” she said “but my heart now and will always belong to him.” Nodding at Fitz. Fitz couldn’t help but be touched by the declaration and longed to return it. 

Ward laughed closing the distance and slapping her sword away with his bare hands as if it were a child’s toy and grabbing her roughly by her arms. He shook her harshly, his frustration growing as not even a hint of fear crossed her face. “I don’t need your heart, just your body Princess.” He punctuated the point by pulling her lips to his in a bruising kiss. 

Fitz howled behind his gag, pulling so hard he managed to pull the chair over and land roughly on the floor. 

Jemma fought the revulsion and kept her mouth clamped tightly shut as his cold lips worked against hers, using her hand to pull something from her sleeve. Ward pulled away with a satisfied smirk, his hand moving from her arm to her chin to hold it forcefully in place. “We’ll need to work on that,” he said. 

She didn’t say anything bringing her now freed hand up and slashing him across the face with her stick. Ward cried in pain, throwing her away and as his guards before he could bring his hand to his face, he collapsed to the ground as well.

“I belong to no one,” she repeated, pulling a dagger from Ward’s belt and making swift work of Fitz’s bindings. As soon as his hands were free he tore the gag from his mouth and pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly to him. “I told you to run!” He said as he pulled away to check her for injuries, refusing to let her out of his arms.

Jemma held him closer before pulling away and delivered a solid smack to his shoulder. “And don’t you ever do that to me again!” she scolded. “We are in this together from here on out, no matter what, none of this sacrificing yourself business.”

Fitz wasn’t able to answer her, when the door to the small house burst open, the wood exploding in shower of splinters. Despite what she had just said to him, he grabbed her arm and shoved her behind him, snatching the dagger from her hand and holding it before them defensively.

The figure charged through the door “By order of the King unhand the pri-“ Sir Hunter was shouting stopping dead a few steps in, a few of his men crashing into him at the sight. Ward and his two men down, Fitz standing protectively in front of Jemma.

“About bloody time you showed up!” Fitz said lowering the dagger breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of his long time protector. 

Hunter motioned for his men to secure Ward and his troops. “We’ve been tearing the countryside apart for you for days! Then some farmer comes charging up saying the Prince was being held captive in his house and the Princess was going to save him. Then I come across wild horses and have panicked men in our uniforms chasing them about. Where the hell have you been, and who is this lot?”  
“Prince Grant Ward of Maveth,” Fitz said and Hunter cursed. Pulling one of his men to him and muttering orders in his ear before shoving him out the door.

“They attacked the carriage not long after we crossed the borders,” Jemma said coming out from behind Fitz his hand slipping into hers. Just because they were safe didn’t mean he didn’t want to be any less close to her. “King Malick intended for me to be his,” gesturing to Wards downed form “bride.”

Hunter looked properly revolted at the idea, looking at Fitz “Were you discovered?” Hunter had been aware of Fitz’s plan to pick up the Princess in disguise, not having seen the harm in it and send his best men along as protection. 

Fitz nodded suddenly looking at his toes, “Yes, Malick was pretty excited about that little bit, thought he’d found some buried treasure and intended on ransoming me back.”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed in anger, “Did he hurt you?” If any harm had come to the Prince, Hunter was going to arrange for the prisoners containment carriage to get an up close and personal look of the bottom of a cliff, the hard way.

“No, just my pride.” Fitz said with a small smile.

“Which is utter rubbish,” Jemma scolding her hand tilting his chin up. “He was nothing short of brilliant and brave. You got us both out of there.”

“I fell for his trap in the thicket,” Fitz pointed out and Jemma let out a frustrated sigh. 

Hunter couldn’t help but smile, pleased that the pair seemed to have bonded and had a genuine connection if their clasped hands were any indication. “What matters now is you are both safe,” Hunter interjected before an argument could start. “I have sent a man to get a carriage as well as one for our new, guests.” His eyes fixed on Ward’s still slumbering forming wondering what on earth the pair had done to take down three armed guards by themselves. 

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Two Months Later….

Jemma sat at her vanity putting the last touches on her hair, reflecting on the events that had brought her here. In the days that had followed their capture there had been a flurry of movement both in the armies and diplomatic channels as both of their kingdoms and their allies moved swiftly and decisively in dealing with Malick and Ward. The abduction of the two beloved heirs had not been met by idle hands.

Ward had been tried, Fitz’s father showing little mercy to the man and ordered his public execution. It had been Fitz who had stepped forward and pleaded for the man’s life. One action of many that just made Jemma fall more in love with him. Ward was to be sent overseas to one of the colonies along with the men that had been apprehended with him. As for King Malick, their allies had over run his castle in a matter of days, and this time there was no trial. He had been executed for his crimes before word had reach the castle Maveth had fallen. 

With Maveth dealt with things settled down and plans turned to the wedding and for her and Fitz to truly get to know each other. Their days had been spent curled up in that window seat in the library reading, going on long walks in the meadows gathering specimens for her journals, and nights atop the highest tower charting the stars.   
And today was their wedding day.

Jemma smiled back at her reflection, having sent her assistants away just wanting a few moments to prepare on her own. There was no question she wanted to do this, she’d actually made many attempts to elope in the last two months more than ready to start their lives together as man and wife. She had found it very difficult upon their return not being able to be at his side all the time, unable to sleep curled up in his embrace, or being able to kiss him whenever she like. Their constant chaperone had seen to that, the court a buzz with whispers due to the fact they’d spent so much time alone in their harrowing journey to get home.

Running her hands over the delicate lace of her dress she smoothed out the last of the wrinkles. Her original dress had been left in Maveth, the seamstress here able to make a beautiful replicate. Her hair had been pulled back into an intricate braid and gathered into a bun, a few loose tendrils framing her face. Atop her head rested her family’s tiara, one of the few items she’d managed to save when fleeing Malick’s hold. 

A soft knock at the door broke her from her revelry “Enter,” she called adding a touch of perfume. She was expecting her mother or even one of the ladies in waiting so she was surprised to see Fitz’s reflection in the mirror.

He had a bright smile of his face and was dressed in a traditional kilt, something he had begged not to have to wear and was over ridden by his own mother, a crown of his own glittering in the sun that streamed through the windows of her room, and his arms were clasped behind his back.

Jemma smiled and ran to him, she hadn’t been allowed to see him since the banquet the night before. “How did you get past Lady May?” Jemma said not caring about traditions at the moment.

Fitz’s eyes took her in, his mouth open slightly at the sight of his beautiful bride before him. “I think she likes me, let me right up when I told her I was on a special mission of sorts.” He said finding his voice. Jemma flushed at his reaction and noticed his arms were still behind his back, and that was not where she wanted those arms, she wanted them wrapped around her so she could snuggle into his embrace and savor what was likely to be their last moments alone for many hours.

“First,” he said taking a step back to look her over, “You look absolutely breathtaking my love.” Jemma flushed again and went to compliment him when he raised an eyebrow “But there seems to be something missing,” he added, Jemma turning back to her mirror in a panic. What had she forgotten?

She was scanning her attire Fitz pressing gently into her back, his hands finally coming around and laying a beautiful necklace around her throat. Jemma gasped as he fastened the clasp and finally wrapped his arms around her stomach looking at her in the reflection his lips right at her ear.

She studied the beautiful piece of jewelry. It was simple and elegant, not gaudy like some of the pieces they had tried to get her to wear for the ceremony. What Fitz had placed around her neck was strand of flowers, each of the petals a diamond outlined in gold, the stigmas of the flower smaller yellow diamonds, and emeralds in the shapes of leaves intertwined in the design. Jemma recognized the flower in an instant, the Arctic Starflower.

“Oh Fitz,” she breathed fingering the delicate flowers in her fingers. He spun her around, looking into her eyes, she falling into the blue as she always did. 

“You are my hope, my light, and my love. I wanted you to know that, just the two of us.” He said cupping her face in his warm hands. 

Jemma closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, finally letting the necklace go to wrap her arms around his neck. “And you, my love, are so much more than that.” She pulled him to her, their lips meeting in a fiery embrace, a seal, a promise of a future yet to come and all the happy years to follow. This moment and embrace more sacred to them than the ceremony that was to follow within the hour. This was their moment.

And They Lived Happily Ever After-

Can’t take credit for that quote when he placed the flower in her hair.

"The earliest flowers of spring  
To thee, beloved, I bring:  
... the milky stars  
Of chickweed-wintergreen"  
\- Arlo Bates, "A Lover's Messengers"


End file.
